shadow heart
by fiesa
Summary: This was not the way Shikamaru had wanted his future to be. Overall, he had expected a less … well, troublesome, one. But maybe this wasn't so bad. OneShot- Shikamaru. On inheritances. And Ino.


**shadow heart**

_Summary: This was not the way Shikamaru had wanted his future to be. Overall, he had expected a less … well, troublesome, one. But maybe this wasn't so bad. OneShot- Shikamaru. On inheritances. And Ino._

_Warning: OneShot. _

_Set: Story-unrelated, future-fic. Same head canon as "Rise"._

_Disclaimer: Standards apply._

_A/N: Here we go, as promised. Shikamaru's point of view, as requested. _

* * *

Shikamaru heard the tell-tale, sudden absence of sound.

He did not look up.

Strange how a person could create a void in the background noise of a quiet room in a lively place. It wasn't as if the people in the adjacent rooms fell quiet at his sight, or as if birds stopped singing and the leaves stopped rustling in the afternoon summer wind. The tall man suddenly appearing in the office just had something that seemed to switch off any thought of sound. It wasn't logical but it wasn't a threatening silence, either. Just calmness, a momentary void on a windy day, a silence that felt familiar and calm and patient. Strange how Shikamaru had gotten to know all those people on a level that did not require sight to recognize them.

"Kakashi."

"Hokage-Sama."

Without looking up from the papers he was reading – a trade agreement between Tea and Leaf concerning the most-exported good the tiny country had to offer being, obviously, tea – he knew the white-haired man was waiting in front of the big desk patiently. The rustling of the sheets of paper suddenly was loud in the silence of the office. Shikamaru finished scanning over the treaty, located his pen just right of his writing hand and signed the papers. _Nara Shikamaru, Seventh Generation Fire Shadow_. On some days he still felt awed that he, of all, should be the one to carry the title of the most powerful man in Fire Country.

"What is it?" He finally asked the special jounin in front of his desk, carefully setting the parchment aside to let the ink dry. Kakashi smiled – the smile hidden beneath his mask and yet reaching his eyes somehow – and indicated at a scroll of paper in his hands.

"You want to read this."

"What is it? A message? Why didn't it come through the usual channels?"

Usual channels usually meant the messenger birds Konoha used, and, to some extent, shinobi traveling between Hidden Leaf and its allies for the sole purpose of relaying messages. The fact that Kakashi, a seasoned shinobi who was tasked with far more important missions, was carrying a message was a bit more than strange.

"Because it wasn't meant for you," Kakashi said, shrugging, and, when he saw Shikamaru frown in the obvious silent _So why are you giving it to me_, added: "It's for me. But I figured you'd want to read it."

He handed the scroll across the desk. Shikamaru looked down at the small, folded paper in his hands. Rough parchment, covered in black lines of ink in a trailing, arching handwriting that nevertheless had managed to be shrunk to a size in which it was just barely legible. The entire piece of paper had been used up, letters almost falling into each other in a – rather successful – attempt to use all the space available. The only fact that had stopped the outside of the parchment from being used as well, Shikamaru reflected, probably was that the writer hadn't wanted any of his words to be read by any other than the recipient. The tell-tale traces – blood-red lines and a soft scent of something salty and sweet, like the sea mixed with cinnamon – of the seal that had been used to protect it still clung to it faintly. His heart skipped a beat. _This-_

"Go on," Kakashi motioned, sounding impatient. But who could tell, with a mask that covered his face almost entirely? "Read it."

_Want, _he had said. Not _need._

Shikamaru picked up the paper and tried to pretend he didn't recognize the sealing or the handwriting.

…

Sometimes he forgot to keep track on the passing of the years.

There was a pattern in the way the days passed. Shikamaru had come to appreciate it, since it kept his life in order. He got up early and went for a spar, mostly meeting Ino, Chouji, Shino or Kiba. Sometimes, Tenten and Neji dropped by. After a short breakfast he made for the office where a neat stack of memos was already awaiting his arrival. Shikamaru was convinced there were people on his staff that never slept: in winter, the fire in the fire place in his office was warm and inviting, in summer, the windows were wide open, letting sunshine and the scent of leaves and trees drift through. After he finished leafing through the messages that had arrived from allied shinobi villages, countries or daimyos, Shikamaru's aide would arrive with a cup of tea and the newest gossip. They went over his schedule together and checked the mission plans, and then usually came the moment when he turned to the empty room behind him and nodded. A few seconds later, his Anbu captain would materialize from the shadows.

Neji was even more imposing when he wore completely black clothing and the trade-mark porcelain mask of his profession. Shikamaru had long ago learned to see the man behind it, though. Neji was a contradiction in himself. After he had almost been killed in the Fourth War and Hinata had saved him, he had become softer. It didn't show – except for in his eyes, perhaps. His voice was still aloof and detached and his demeanor cold. But judging from Hinata's glowing expression _some_ things had changed and that was where Shikamaru refused to inquire further. As it was, he already knew enough about his staff. No need to cement some of his suspicions.

(Or to let them know he knew.)

Lunch was made a short deal of, as usual, because on most days Shikamaru didn't even find the time to sit down and have a meal in between his tasks and his work. Usually he'd wolf down whatever his aide put before him in a free minute. Sometimes, Chouji would pass by and leave him freshly baked bread or a bag of chips. Sometimes Shikamaru had to attend one or the other diplomatic functions during lunch. Those were the worst – because he couldn't even focus on the food. A dozen people usually tried to talk to him at the same time and while he had no problem keeping track of them there still was a limit as to what his brain was able to handle and catalogue at the same time. Food, in that regard, ranked pretty low.

The afternoon, again, was filled with meetings and work. Three days a week, he reserved a few hours of the day for free meetings. Everyone, civilians or shinobi, could come to talk to him, to complain or to ask for advice. Shikamaru found that he liked those hours most: they were troublesome. But he never was closer to Hidden Leaf's inhabitants than during these afternoons. And mostly he continued working until late into the night and then fell into his bed knowing the same day was waiting for him again when he opened his eyes.

Contrary to what he had always imagined, the prospect wasn't a scary one.

While being a person who valued his free time Shikamaru never had been lazy per se. The worst thing he could think of for his future had been a blur of days holding the same thing again and again, one day after another, with nothing else to look forward to. Office work, he had thought, would be like that: paper, lunch, paper, coffee, paper until late at night. And despite everything – despite his obvious love for freedom and his notorious dislike for work and responsibility – Shikamaru was a very responsible person. Once he took something onto himself, he held on to it until the end. Sometimes he wondered whether it was the reason why he didn't like people easily. Every person he got to know and to like, he felt responsible for. And human beings, he had learned early, were breakable things. So easily lost. For that reason he was careful with them, only allowing himself to like someone when he realized what kind of person the other was. Shikamaru would never have believed that one day he would feel responsible for the entirety of a village – for all the inhabitants of Hidden Leaf. But in the same way he had grown and learned: unconsciously, while time passed and people died and were born – he had grown to love the village that was his home. And he had accepted the burden of their trust and protection that had been placed on his shoulders. So now here he was: The Seventh Hokage, the Fire Shadow of Konoha Gakure, the political and military head of the most powerful shinobi village of the Country of Fire. He'd never expected to end up here one day. He'd envisioned his future so differently, so unlike the one he was living now. Shikamaru had expected work, yes, and missions. A wife and children. Live well, die early – it hadn't been a spectacular vision of the future, but it had been a good one. Certainly less… well, _troublesome _– than this one right here.

There were a few things he never had come to terms with…

But, those things aside: this wasn't so bad.

…

Setting dates to meet with Ino had become necessary after they had split up Team Ten and went their different ways.

After the war everything had changed, either way. Ino went off towards Anbu (she had become so good at what she was doing that it was hard to watch), Chouji decided to train for genin instructor and Shikamaru went to assist the Fifth and then the Sixth Hokage. Anbu missions took Ino away from Hidden Leaf for long stretches of time while Shikamaru found himself on a schedule not explicitly laid out by but molded to the Hokage's work and needs. So if he wanted to see his childhood friends he had to get a hold of them and they had to get in contact first and set a date and a meeting place second. Only neither Shikamaru nor Ino were the kinds of people who kept track of each other. Due to their families they saw each other on a regular basis, even if it was once or twice a year only. So the work of holding on was mostly left to Chouji. Without him, Shikamaru had realized, they would have fallen apart quickly. Childhood friends – the words seemed to lose their meaning as the time went by. It was strange. People had said they had been inseparable as kids. But then, Ino's longtime Anbu partner Naruto had stopped taking too many missions so he could assist the Godaime Hokage and learn to lead the village. So Ino, too, had been in town more and more. Then Tsunade-Sama had retired and Naruto had taken over and then had dumped the burden of leadership on Shikamaru without as much as a warning. And Shikamaru had found that someone – certainly not Naruto, because that idiot would never plan out something that far in advance – had integrated the assistant Anbu captain as head of security and liaison between Anbu, the remnants of Root, the Torture and Interrogation Squad and village security into the daily schedules of the Fire Shadow to the point that they saw each other almost every day.

(Naruto certainly hadn't been preparing Ino to take over exactly the position Shikamaru had filled in for Naruto. It was _impossible_. The thought alone made Shikamaru sigh in desperation.)

In order to see Ino nowadays Shikamaru had to get up, step outside his office and walk into the adjoining room. And if she wasn't there – bent over some paperwork or other, talking and arguing and discussing with some people or other – she would be somewhere in the building, watching, organizing and helping. And if she wasn't in the building – well, then she was on one of the few missions she took personally, one of those missions he had given to her explicitly because he trusted her first and foremost.

And on the few days she wasn't on a mission but still not at the main office at all – those days he could count off his fingers – he still knew exactly where to find her.

…

"Are you avoiding me?"

She shot him a wary look. "Why should I?"

"No idea." Shikamaru leaned against the stone railing of the bridge, very aware of Ino sitting on it next to him, her legs dangling into the void above the river. Not that the bridge was high, or the river dangerous. As kids, they had jumped down from the bridge in summer.

"Why didn't you tell me Sakura was keeping you in the loop?"

While Kakashi's silence was something Shikamaru had gradually gotten to know in the course of years, Ino's presence had always been as familiar to him as his own mind. The surprise that flitted over her face when he confronted her with the question was barely visible, but _there_. Crystal-clear, the freezing night air materialized their exhaled breath in small clouds of frozen water in front of them. Ino, just back from a mission, was wrapped in her black Anbu cloak. Her mask, though, was nowhere in sight. She looked small in her uniform: washed-out like a black-and-white picture in the dim light of the sunset. Even her blonde hair seemed silver.

Instead of answering directly, she shrugged. "Sakura's my friend. She started writing four months after she left Konoha, to tell me she was fine. Her letters arrive sporadically and she does not give away their location, in case the letter is intercepted."

"But you knew where she was."

"I had a hunch." A smile flitted over her features. "She was travelling quite a lot."

Shikamaru shook his head and sighed, his hands buried in the folds of _the_ coat. "It would have been nice to know."

"Kakashi told you." It was a statement, not a question.

Leaning against the wooden railing of the bridge, his eyes were drawn up towards the sky. There were few clouds in the distance, small and white, barely obscuring the moon that was already bright despite the night still being young. The cold of a late fall evening was slowly sinking into his bones. Didn't Ino feel it, too?

"Yeah."

"I knew it."

"So everybody knew where she was except for me?"

"Don't be silly, Shikamaru." She shot him a reprimanding look. "You're not the center of the universe."

"Still, I'm the one who is in charge here. I'd like to know stuff like that."

When she didn't answer – just looked at him without any expression – he sighed.

"Whatever. You'll do what you want either way, Kakashi, Sakura and you."

He hadn't meant for it to sound so bitter.

…

Two years ago, the honorable Sixth Fire Shadow had looked at Shikamaru from across the room.

Looking back, Shikamaru never had been able to say what had been different. It had been a normal day – not a Wednesday, but what day exactly he hadn't been able to remember. A normal day. Naruto had worked through the daily load of documents and scrolls, calling on him once or twice for a comment or a reminder. At midday, Sakura had dropped by and Shikamaru had left the two of them to their own devices. It had been a year, perhaps, that they had made their relationship public. It had surprised everyone and nobody. Most of the teams that had been known as the Konoha Twelve had made it through the Fourth Great Shinobi War more or less intact. Team Gai almost had lost Neji but he had survived, albeit just barely. Team Ten had lost their teacher. Team Four had lost their innocence but they still were alive. Team Seven lost Sasuke for the last and final time and the blow had never softened. Shikamaru remembered Naruto after his first confrontation with Sasuke in the Valley of the End. Sakura had told him about another encounter, a few years later: history seemed to run in loops around those three, it seriously did. Then came the War and while Sasuke made an appearance he never stayed long enough, he disappeared before Naruto could talk to him although they had fought side by side, and won. The last time Naruto had met Sasuke Shikamaru had heard of from Ino: she'd been on a mission with Naruto when they had crossed Sasuke's path again. There had been no injuries but Shikamaru had never seen Naruto so lost before. He'd only made it through because of Sakura. They seemed to have straightened out something then, because they gradually became closer from that moment on and Naruto seemed to find a piece of himself he had lost before. He'd never been the same again, but whom of them could say that he was.

Some people had only been waiting for him to move on. Two years later, Senju Tsunade, Fifth Generation Fire Shadow of Konoha, disappeared and left the Hokage's mantle to Naruto.

Shikamaru did not begrudge Naruto his newly found happiness. It was precisely because he could see the way his eyes somehow clouded over and his shoulders hunched that he knew how much he still blamed himself, and that he would never be free of the shadow that was Uchiha Sasuke. If anyone could make Naruto feel better – _actually_ feel better, not just faux-smile-and-quip-better – it was Sakura.

After lunch break Shikamaru led three foreign shinobi into Naruto's office. The talks lasted longer than expected, as usual, but when the foreigners had finally left Naruto sighed, leaned back and grinned at Shikamaru. "I've got a good feeling."

Shikamaru nodded and collected the scrolls, stocked them away meticulously while Naruto cleared up the small table by stacking the tea cups. The door opened and Sakura entered, walking straight over to stand behind Naruto. Shikamaru probably missed a wordless communication because he heard his superior's and friend's voice out of the blue: "I need a word with you, Shikamaru."

Until then, it had been a completely normal day.

"I'm leaving Hidden Leaf," Naruto opened the conversation without any warning. "And I want you to be my successor."

Shikamaru dropped the last scroll. It clattered to the ground with a paper-soft sound.

"Sit down, will you? And please don't faint on me," Naruto quipped.

Shikamaru wanted to grab him and shake him until his teeth rattled and rationality returned. One did not make jokes about things like that. Instead, he picked up the scroll and carefully re-shelved it. Only then he walked over and sat down on the edge of the armchair on the other side of the small table. One of the ambassadors hadn't finished his tea. It ought to be cold by now, but it still smelled faintly of orange zest.

"Did you hear me, Shikamaru?"

"No," he said, slowly and carefully. "I think I misunderstood you, Hokage-Sama."

"Don't _Sama _me." Naruto frowned. "I said I was leaving Konoha, and you are my chosen successor for the position of the Fire Shadow."

"Absolutely _not_."

"I told you he'd react that way, Naruto," Sakura said, her hand placed on his shoulder. She hadn't sat down, as if she was ready to throw herself between the two of them in the case that Shikamaru would decide to attack. In the back of his mind, Shikamaru calculated how fast he had to be to get to Naruto, and how he would be able to distract the healer for the heart-beat he needed to cross the room between them. The numbers, as usual, were discouraging, but this time he did not care about it in the least. Without even missing a beat, Naruto took Sakura's hand into his.

"He means he'll stop us from leaving. But he'll understand."

"That's exactly what I will do." Shikamaru didn't feel anything, just knew this couldn't be happening. _The first, not the latter. _"You can't leave."

"You don't want to be Hokage," Naruto said matter-of-factly. "That's how Sakura said you'd react. It's for exactly that reason that it has to be you. And don't be stupid. If I want to leave you can't stop me and you know it."

Shikamaru knew. Still, he'd die trying when it came to it.

"Why?" His analytical mind was running backwards, scanning through years' worth of memories. Where had it gone wrong? He couldn't find anything.

"I'm going to find Sasuke."

Total stand-still.

Then:

"Why?"

"There are rumors he's been seen somewhere in Frost. I'll go looking for him, both of us will." Naruto threw Sakura a loving glance. "And when we've found him, we won't come back."

"Why?"

"Nobody wants a traitor. Leaf has been doing well without the Uchiha. Bringing him back would stir up too much trouble, besides, he doesn't want to return. He's made it abundantly clear to me the last time we met."

"Why?"

"I miss him." It was stated calmly, dead-serious. Shikamaru looked at Naruto and saw a stranger in the place of the man he had known for years and considered his friend.

"_Why?_" His voice broke. He didn't care.

"I'm not abandoning Hidden Leaf, Shikamaru. I'm giving it the chance to grow. Without me. It will be strange in the beginning, especially for you. I realize that. But you have the others. You have Kakashi and Iruka, Kurenai and Gai. And you don't want to be Hokage. You are the best choice."

From somewhere in the building Shikamaru heard a door close with a dull _thump_.

"I know." Naruto looked at him, a small, pained smile on his face. And it was precisely because Shikamaru knew that _this _was the real Naruto, not the loud, obnoxious, happy-go-lucky mask he wore so often that- "I know we're placing a great burden on you, Shikamaru. But we're living in peace right now. Konoha is doing well, but it could do better. It could do better with a leader who doesn't feel like a part of him is missing all the time."

Naruto was gripping Sakura's hand so hard his knuckles turned white. Sakura didn't even flinch.

"I just _can't_. I can't do this anymore. Becoming Hokage was my dream since I could think but it turned out it is more than this. It's not just a place where a lonely child can find friends. It also isn't a position from which one can fight to protect what one loves. Those shinobi I send out there every day? They are worth more than I am. I can be replaced. Without them, though, I am nothing. Even you, Shikamaru – you are so much more important than I am. Step up to the place where I'm standing now and you'll see what I mean. It's honor, it's strength, it's loyalty and duty. But all of that is nothing without the people and in order to understand them you need a heart. I lost half of mine, Shikamaru. Tsunade-obaasan took another part with her when she left. I am a shell sitting at the desk of the most powerful man in Fire Country and because I am incomplete I am a danger to every single one of the people I love. Do you understand? I _have_ to go."

"That's not true," Shikamaru said. His voice sounded far, far away. "That's a coward's stance. You can't just leave. Konoha needs you. It's simply not _true_." He wasn't sure what he was denying – probably everything Naruto had just said. But even while he _knew_ some of the things the blonde man had said were wrong, he also knew some of them were true. Admitting it hurt as if he was cutting open his chest and wrenching his heart out with his own hands.

Naruto was only human. The reminder was sharp and tasted like ashes and blood.

"I can't let you leave."

Naruto's gaze was steady as he returned Shikamaru's desperate glance. "Do you really want to try? Because I don't want you to. We all know how this will end. History will only repeat itself."

Shikamaru's fists opened and closed in helpless desperation.

"_I can't let you leave._"

"Shikamaru." Naruto smiled. A real, true Naruto-smile. "You know you can't beat me. You're too intelligent to deceive yourself. That's why it has to be you. _Look at the situation._ You'll see I'm right."

Sakura was smiling, too. Tears shone in her eyes.

"You'll do well, Shikamaru."

…

_Three years. _

"So they found him, did they?" Shikamaru said and blew warm air onto his hands. "Only took them three years."

"The world's big," Ino answered with a smile. "Besides, Uchiha are good liars."

"Yeah, but their hiding skills suck."

"Well, when you know you'd beat everyone who would dare to come at you you probably don't think of hiding anymore."

"Troublesome," Shikamaru muttered and Ino chuckled. "Where did they find him?"

"Somewhere in the mountains. Apparently he was making a living by herding sheep. Can you believe it?"

"No."

"Must have been quite a reunion. Sakura mentioned an avalanche."

"Do I want to know?"

"Probably not." Sighing, Ino tucked a strand of hair away that had escaped the confines of her pony-tail. Shikamaru stared at her small hands: it was hard to remember that she could kill as easily as she breathed. Her hands, her face, the curve of her neck – she was beautiful. After the last war – short, brutal and victorious, oh so victorious for Hidden Leaf but with oh so many losses – he'd promised himself he would tell her what he felt for her. Somehow he still hadn't found the right moment. Or he still didn't dare. Inwardly, he laughed bitterly. Who was the coward, here?

"So what will they do now? Kakashi only gave me the short version."

"Settle down somewhere," Ino said. "Open a dojo or something. Sasuke seems to have calmed down considerably. Well, he already learned the truth about his family and his brother during the Fourth Great War. Maybe his hate somehow got lost on the way. With Akatsuki gone, Obito and Madara defeated, his brother dead… He knew he couldn't blame Hidden Leaf – our generation – for the faults of our parents and grandparents. You know, when Naruto and I met him that one time… He seemed so much older. He still was strong, of course, but he didn't seem so angry anymore. He seemed exhausted. I guess it's hard to hate the entire world for your entire life."

"Huh."

"But they won't come back."

Shikamaru sighed. "No. No, they won't."

"Oh, and by the way? Sakura and Naruto got married officially."

He'd be stuck with the title Hokage, then. And he'd forever wonder whether the decisions he made – the things he did – were the decisions Naruto would have made, and the things Naruto would have approved of.

_Three years._

As the realization stuck, something inside Shikamaru opened up and spilled out. Something black and dark and ugly, all the things he had been trying to deny. He had packed up those terrible thoughts, had put them into a box and sealed it tightly. He had hidden it somewhere deep in his mind, knowing he never wanted it to be opened again. The contents were despicable and horrendous and terrible. It was jealousy and hate and desperation, anger and impatience and a feeling of self-loathing so thick it threatened to drown him. It was everything he never wanted to be.

Sometimes Shikamaru felt like he was a cheap replacement for Naruto.

For everyone, in that matter. He'd taken Naruto's place as Fire Shadow in the eyes of the villagers and in the minds of the shinobi. He'd taken Naruto's place as Ino's partner and Naruto's place as Kakashi's charge. Sometimes Shikamaru felt like a faded, distorted carbon copy of the one person everyone _truly_ wanted to see in the white, flame-embroidered cloak that didn't even manage to protect him from the cold properly. He wasn't a leader like Naruto, not as cheerful as his old friend, not as energetic and lively and forwards-thinking. He lacked the natural charisma the blond man had possessed that had made him one of the most beloved people in the village even though he had been born a shunned and hated child. More: Naruto had _worked_ for their love. Naruto had fought and screamed and kicked until people took a moment to actually _look_ at him, measure him up and see his achievements – and they had found him worthy. Naruto had charmed them with a wide grin and a flawless display of undying loyalty and everyone had unanimously decided he would be the one who was supposed to hold their future.

Shikamaru had agreed wholeheartedly.

And now he had been given all of what Naruto had fought so hard for to gain. Naruto had worked and fought and toiled for the one thing Shikamaru never had wanted: the leadership over the Village Hidden in the Leaves. The worst thing ever: _Shikamaru had been given this power without any achievement of his own._ The people had merely accepted him because it had been _Naruto_ who had told them he wanted Shikamaru as his successor. It hurt more than he ever could have imagined.

Shikamaru wasn't a great man, or even a good one. He knew he had to sacrifice some things to gain others. He knew he had to play brutally sometimes, and that people disliked him for it. He knew he lacked many qualities Naruto had, the qualities that had made him so beloved. Even more: it wasn't only Naruto. Shikamaru envied Neji for his strength and determination, Lee for his never-ending enthusiasm and his power to push himself forward. Kiba and Shino had an aim in life and a life and Chouji – Chouji was himself and accepted himself the way he was. Shikamaru was nothing of all of it and worthless, a shell to be filled with someone else's fame, a book that spoke of the peoples' loyalty to another person. He was a shadow that only gained contours when there was someone else's light to shine on him but at the same time, that light made him disappear.

The sky was of the darkest blue before turning completely black. Shikamaru was so damn cold.

It was the same, over and over again. Had Naruto been in his place: Sakura, Ino and even Kakashi wouldn't have hesitated to inform him. Now he had only learned that his friend and Sakura had married, that they had found Sasuke and that they were fine because at one point Kakashi had _decided_ to _inform_ him. The old shinobi probably had taken pity on him. The poor replacement Hokage who didn't even know what was going on.

"Did you think I didn't care?" He asked bitterly, breaking the silence between them. "Or would tell anyone? Didn't you trust me, Ino? Why didn't you tell me this before?" Shikamaru felt all the hurt and unjust accusations dripping from his lips like poison and clenched his mouth shut again but it was too late: the words had already been said out loud.

From her perch on the bridge railing, Ino turned to meet his gaze. Her blue eyes were dark in the shadows that obscured her face. Again, unbidden, the thought crossed his mind: these days, she was more shadow than he had ever been. Whenever he had turned around on the battlefield, she had been there. When he needed something done, she was there no matter the time and dirtiness of the mission. When he worked late and left after midnight she was there and when he came in in the earliest of mornings _she was there_. Ino looked small in her Anbu cloak, tiny and fragile. But there was strength in her hands and shoulders and lines in her face that spoke of experience and hardship. There were scars on her hands and surely all over her body and her heart. _She was beautiful._ She was beautiful and Shikamaru wanted to touch her, feel the silkiness of her hair, her warmth. Shikamaru wanted to kiss her so badly he felt like screaming but she _did not even trust him_ enough to tell him their friends were finally happy.

And she knew what he was thinking.

"This is not about trust and you know that," Ino said slowly. "Sometimes there are things you can't know about because then you'd be obligated to do something. We've been through this before. _You_ have been through this, Shikamaru."

The Incident. He'd never hated it more than then.

"And whether it was because I thought you wouldn't care?" She waited for his terse nod of acknowledgement. "Oh, Shikamaru." Ino sighed, a soft exhale into the thin night air, and turned slightly to gaze over the river. There were plates of ice at its edges. They drifted together and apart slowly where the currents couldn't reach them. The Nagano wasn't a peaceful river at its calmest times but that also meant it never froze over completely.

"Too much," she finally said without looking at him.

"What?!" He didn't get it.

"You care too much. That's why I didn't tell you."

Shikamaru grasped to understand, his mind completely blank.

"I know everyone is following me because Naruto told them to," he said thickly. "But I – I'm really _trying_, Ino. I work seventy hours a week and I try and try to make everything work out as well as possible. I know it's not enough but I'll try harder. I never wanted this but Naruto left this village and these people to me and I swear I will protect them. I'll do everything possible to prove to you that Naruto's faith in me was justified. Just… Just bear with me a little longer. _Please_."

Ino's smile disappeared.

"Shikamaru," she said. "You didn't just say… You couldn't possibly think." She shook her head as if to clear it. "But of course you would. We were stupid, Sakura, Kakashi and I, not to see it before."

She lifted her hand.

"And you are stupid," she said, "When you think we are only following you because Naruto asked us to." Her hand touched his cheek, warm and calloused. Shikamaru shivered.

"Shikamaru. You've been Hokage for three years already. Do you really believe those shinobi listen to you because someone told them to? Do you really think the people send you gifts and smile when you pass because they are secretly waiting for Naruto to come back? No, they don't. Every one of them loved Naruto. We love him, still, _you_ love him, and because you do you know he won't ever come back. The people know that, too. Do you know what they see when they look at you? They see a shinobi who was regarded as capable and strong enough to lead the village by the man who lead it before you. They see someone who has been chosen for his absolute loyalty, intelligence, strength and his faith. They see someone Naruto left for them, someone he was sure would be able to protect them when he wasn't there anymore. Shikamaru."

She was leaning towards him, her eyes intense.

"You lead us into the last war. Didn't you hear your people chant your name after we won?"

"That was no victory," he croaked. "And Naruto would have been able to stop it before-"

"Naruto wasn't there," she interrupted him without lifting her voice. The intensity in her eyes was coloring her words, too. "_Naruto_ _wasn't there._ You were, Shikamaru. And the people followed _you_, they fought _for you_ because they believed you had checked every other option and found it was the only one. They knew they might die and they were willing to fight because _you_ promised them you'd be there to lead them no matter where the war went. All these shinobi, even the civilians – Shikamaru, they weren't following Naruto. They were following _you._"

She sighed. Her breath was warm on his face.

"And you are like him. You care so much for all these people, you care for each single one of them so much it breaks your heart to watch them suffer. Kakashi, Sakura and I just wanted to protect you from more pain. We should have known you'd think we didn't think you trustworthy enough. But we do."

Her voice died out and left a silence that suddenly didn't seem as heavy and dark than it had a few hours ago. Still without anything else to say Shikamaru lifted his hand to clasp hers and when she did not move – _so warm, so close – _he leaned forward, a hand sneaking into her hair, and kissed her.

Her lips tasted like black tea and vanilla.

He kissed her softly, almost afraid. She didn't react. When he leaned back again she was looking at him, blue eyes wide and beautiful, and her lips opened in a soft _O_. Her other hand came up to thread through his hair wordlessly, caressed his face and followed its contours. Her left hand still in his, he lifted it to his lips and kissed the palm of her hand.

She simply gazed at him. "I'd follow you to the ends of the earth, Shikamaru."

"Turn around, will you," he said, his voice rough. Ino swung her legs back so she sat on the railing facing him, her eyes luminous. Her hands cupped his face as she bent down slowly until their lips met again, then slid around to his neck, and suddenly Shikamaru didn't feel the winter cold anymore.

There were no words to describe what he felt for Ino.

…

The sky was blue and beautiful. _Winter._ There was a cathartic feeling in the way the sun shone from the clear sky, even though the temperature had dropped even lower. Soon, he suspected, it would start to snow. He was looking forward to it, actually.

_Three years. _

There always was more work to do.

It wasn't as bad as it sounded. Shikamaru liked to be occupied. It was as if his entire childhood – all those hours he had spent on the porch, watching clouds or sleeping – had been so he could gather the energy he needed to get through the days nowadays. He didn't feel like that was a bad thing. Of course he still liked to sit down and do nothing – but he also liked the work. Even the responsibility that came with being the Fire Shadow had become a familiar weight, like a warm cloak covering his shoulders. It wasn't unbearable anymore, not the heavy burden it had used to be.

_You'll do well, Shikamaru._

He felt a grin tug at his lips as the voices mixed in his head.

Sighing, he stood up and stepped over to the wide windows of his office. From where he was standing he could see a group of children in a room on the other side of the square; they were happily blasting away on their instruments. In spring, Shikamaru guessed, their enthusiastic melodies would drift through his open windows. If the teacher's face was any indication he hoped they would have bettered their performance until then.

On the streets, people were passing by, bundled up in warm winter clothing. Two shinobi – a jounin and a chuunin – were returning from scouting duty. From their relaxed poses nothing indicated at an incident that required a direct notification. They stopped to chat with Genma, who stepped out of the main house the second they reached the entrance. A child ran across the square, _shoo_ing a flock of doves, an unrecognizable ball in its warm coat. It was closely followed by his mother. She caught it before it fell into a puddle and towed it into the opposite direction, the child chatting away happily, a smile on the woman's face.

The door to his office opened.

Shikamaru turned and saw Ino standing in the door. Her silvery hair was twisted into a bun and held by a plain metal pin that probably transformed into a deathly weapon if she needed it. She was wearing an ocean blue top, dark leggins and plain, black boots. It was nothing flashy, nothing special like the Ino twenty years ago would have worn, but he liked it even more. "Hey."

"So many people," he said, seemingly at random. Ino, used to his mental leaps, just smiled.

"Not angry with Naruto today? Or with me, Kakashi or Sakura?"

It was almost scary, the way she always seemed to know exactly what he felt. He'd long suspected Ino possessed her own, special kind of telepathy. Considering her family inheritance, it probably wasn't too far off the mark.

"I never was angry with him."

She didn't call him on what both of them knew was a bluff. Instead, she closed the door and walked over until she was so close he could almost feel her warmth. Together they stood in the shadows at the window, watching the life in Hidden Leaf go on outside.

"You know," she finally said, easily continuing their conversation of the night before. "I thought you were happy, Shikamaru. Otherwise I would have said something."

"I was," he said and realized it was the truth. "I mean, I am. I am happy. I love Hidden Leaf. I never wanted to be Hokage but I like working for the village. I like doing this, no matter how much trouble it is. And I think I know what Naruto wanted to say."

"You do?" She shot him a glance. "What did he mean?"

Shikamaru didn't answer.

_It has to be you, Shikamaru._

He still didn't agree. But he could see why Naruto had thought the way he had.

Outside, an elderly couple walked across the square. When the old lady sat down on one of the benches heavily, her husband supported her and then sat down next to her.

Naruto had had faith in him. Naruto had _seen_ something in him – in him, Shikamaru, the lazy Nara idiot. The one everyone had suspected would burn up his intellect fast enough in the service and then retire – or die early. Naruto had trusted him enough to leave him his greatest treasure. Shikamaru wasn't sure he had managed to live up to Naruto's ideals completely but he had a pretty good idea what exactly the chaos shinobi would say if he saw him right now.

Ino was staring ahead, her gaze distant and her eyes thoughtful. There were lines around her eyes, and scars on her arms and hands. She had aged, but so had he. She still was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Carefully, he extended his fingers. Their hands met in silent agreement without either one of them looking down. Ino turned her head slightly to meet his gaze and smiled and in her smile he could see the girl from his childhood, the teenager she had been and the woman she now was. He remembered the warmth of her lips of the night before, the touch of her hands, the smile on her face. Shikamaru fought the overwhelming urge to kiss her and then just gave in and leaned forwards-

Ino burst into laughter.

Irritated, he pulled away. She saw his incredulous gaze but continued laughing, helplessly, her face transforming into a brightly-lit window that made her even prettier.

"Shikamaru!" She panted, holding her side and – pointing out of the window. "Oh God, Shikamaru, look!"

He looked.

Iruka-Sensei – old, tired, loyal Iruka-Sensei who had refused to retire when Shikamaru had carefully suggested it and had huffed that he wasn't too old to grade papers and keep kids in line – was chasing a trio of yelling seven-year-old boys down the street. The boys were children: one with messy hair and half-tipped glasses, one with a strange headdress that resembled a fir tree and one of them a bit overweight and panting along. One of them was laughing uproariously. One of them looked slightly guilty. One of them looked plainly bored and all of them ran down the street like they were being followed by the Hounds of Hell, their teacher close behind them. The ruckus they created had everyone look up to watch the parade pass by and was clearly heard even on the other side of the windows of the Hokage's office.

"Katou! Yahiro! Mitsuhide! I told you to stop _immediately_!"

"That," Ino said, between new bouts of laughter, "Usually was the point when the three of you knew it was over."

Shikamaru watched the three boys. One of them – he had no idea who was who – had spiky, unruly blond hair and was jumping up and down like a bouncing cactus. Feeling the grin creep into his face, he agreed with Ino – when Iruka-Sensei used that voice, even Naruto had stopped short. These kids kept running. First-time perps, then.

There was no further warning. Iruka descended on the unsuspecting kids with all the just wrath of a senior tokujo. Within seconds they were bundled up in scrolls, unable to move or even voice protest, and had been slung over the next tree where they proceeded to dangle merrily in the afternoon air, squirming helplessly. The speed of the old special jounin's actions didn't amaze Shikamaru. What _did_ amaze him was the fact that he felt laughter bubbling up in his chest, as well. The expression the kids had was just so hilariously _priceless._

Not even out of breath Iruka sat down calmly, his back to the kids, and started sorting through his weapon pouch. The audience, most of them laughing, slowly dispersed and went their own ways. The elderly couple stayed to watch with an expression bordering on nostalgia on their faces. Ino wiped away a few tears of laughter and looked at him, her eyes glowing.

"This is your village, Shikamaru. Do you still think you're not capable of leading it?"

That second, Shikamaru couldn't help but think Naruto had left him something unthinkably precious.


End file.
